I read the article in the Sunday paper about the Vatican document and its impact on Fr. Matthew Hood and his ministry. I thought the reporter did a fair representation. Then I made a mistake. I checked out the comments from readers. 

Ouch! One writer called us believers “suckers” for believing. Someone else compared the Vatican’s comments to trying to figure “how many angels can dance on the head of a pin.” See what I mean?

But the comments, proving that God can write straight with crooked lines, got me thinking. Words mean something. The hurtful comments accomplished the writers’ goal: They hurt. Some late 20^th century literary critics proclaimed that words don’t mean anything. I never understood that. When I tell someone I love them, that means something. If someone says, “I hate you!” that has power.

When someone uses stereotypical language, or something like the “N” word, that has impact. When someone uses words to get an idea out of his or her head, to explain themselves to another, it’s work, and it means something. When a loved one dies, and a friend asks how the grieving survivor is doing, people struggle to express their sadness, or anger, but they use words to share what’s knotted up in their hearts.

This is more than literary theory. There’s a spiritual dimension to all of this. Why did the inspired author of the book of Genesis describe God simply speaking a word in the creation process, and having effect? Because millennia ago, people knew that words have power. As believers, they knew that God’s word has incomparable power. We’re acting in His image and likeness when we use words well, for good.

St. John the Evangelist knew this when, under the Holy Spirit’s guidance, he began his Gospel account talking about God’s Word (“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God … and the Word became flesh, and made His dwelling among us.”). He knew that words, especially the Word, have creative power.

I read the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith’s document about the pronouns used in baptism in light of this. Even small words have power. “Yes,” or “no” can have a chasm of meaning between them. So the difference between “I” and “we,” while they are small words, have powerful significance.

Preparing for a session on the Eucharist for an RCIA group some years back, I included the words of the consecration. There is a significant shift. Up to the very words Jesus spoke, the narrative talks about Jesus in the third person. “At the time he was betrayed and entered willingly into his Passion …” But then the language shifts significantly, “Take this, all of you and eat of it, for this is MY body, which will be given up for you.” This change underlines — makes the statement in bold print — that Jesus is doing this, not Patrick Halfpenny. If Patrick Halfpenny tried to do it, it would remain bread and wine.

So in the end, I thank God that I read some of the comments. Very indirectly, they helped me appreciate the Congregation’s words all the more. Words are powerful. They mean something.